


The Missing Prophecy

by makenalei



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Character Death, Family, Gen, Prophecy, Snow and Ice, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-26
Updated: 2015-08-04
Packaged: 2018-01-17 03:21:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1372021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makenalei/pseuds/makenalei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She will be one with the ice. Her skin will be as pale as fallen snow, her stare are cold as the winter winds, and her soul as dark as winter sky. She will have the power of the ice beneath her feet. In her seventeenth year, amidst death and darkness, she will be reborn. To the North she must travel, to save the realm from the creatures of the dead. Alone she will be until she comes to her dragon prince, the prince born of salt and smoke. Together, theirs will be the song of ice and fire.</p><p>Or where Rhaegar was missing part of the prophecy</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

She looked at the six children seated in front of her with sad eyes. She knew that the time was drawing closer. She could feel it in her bones.

 

“I have one last story for you all” She croaked, “Before you leave to start your lives”

 

“We’ll be back” The younger of the two girls retorted with a frown, “I’m not staying there forever, especially with them”

 

“Good, I don’t want you there” The eldest girl bit back, “You’ll ruin everything, you always do”

 

“I do not!”

 

“Enough” Their elder brother pulled the older girl away while the bastard brother took the younger one.

 

“Will you tell us the story, Nan?” The second youngest asked with a smile. He loved her stories the most.

 

“Story!” The little three year old babbled, clapping his chubby hands.

 

“It is one I have never told before” She told them, “It is the prophecy of the ice princess”

 

The youngest girl whooped in excitement, the ice princess was her favorite character. The elder girl frowned. It was common knowledge that she detested the ice princess stories, as they did not mirror her southern princess stories.

 

But no one would like this tale.

 

‘Listen closely now” She whispered,

 

_“In the North, there is a long forgotten prophecy of a princess born amidst the ice. In her veins run the blood of kings, the blood of the first men, and the blood of the North itself. She is to be born in the last year of winter in the land of snow and ice.  She shall have skin as pale as snow, eyes as cold as the wind, and a will as strong as the ice”_

 

“ _In her twelfth year, a winter so fierce and long will fall, and with it, the kingdom. Alone she will find herself, as darkness and death spread throughout her land, taking her blood and love along with it. The ice will be her salvation and she must return to the North to save it. She, along with the Dragon Prince, are the only two who can save the nation,”_

“Where are the battle scenes?” The youngest girl pouted, “Where is the action?”

 

“It is a prophecy child,” She told her seriously, “It hasn’t happened yet”

 

“And it never will” The eldest girl put in, “There are no dragons left”

 

“But what of her magic?” The second youngest questioned, “Magic is real, isn’t it?”

 

“Of course it is” She patted his copper curls, “Now, run along, you all have a big day tomorrow”

 

The six children departed the cozy room. They had no idea what was about to befall them, and nor did she really.

 

But she knew that the prophecy would soon be filled, she could feel it. No good would come out of their trip south. Something was going to happen that would leave but one lone wolf to her self.

 

As she readied herself for bed that night, the little girls face filled her mind, along with the true words of what she would become. The Targaryen’s had known of the prophecy, a portion of it, and it driven Prince Rhaegar to kidnap little Lyanna.

 

No, no one need know the true prophecy yet. It would only bring pain to the little girl. And she would suffer soon enough.

 

As she drifted off to sleep, the words stuck in her mind.

 

_She will be one with the ice. Her skin will be as pale as fallen snow, her stare are cold as the winter winds, and her soul as dark as winter sky. She will have the power of the ice beneath her feet. In her seventeenth year, amidst death and darkness, she will be reborn. To the North she must travel, to save the realm from the creatures of the dead. Alone she will be until she comes to her dragon prince, the prince born of salt and smoke. Together, theirs will be the song of ice and fire._


	2. Chapter 2

The seventeen-year-old stared sadly at the breeches and tunic spread out upon her bed. They were roughspun and lined with fur, warm yet functional, as was the tunic and undershirts. Everything was black, to show that she was still mourning, as customs dictated. 

This would be the third time she had to mourn the loss of a husband. 

The first husband to make her a widow was the young Lord Robert Arryn. He was a sickly lad that succumbed to the coldness in the second year of winter. She mourned his lost as a cousin, and as a friend. 

The second husband to make her a widow was Harry the Heir. He was a comely lad with a raging temper and a love of whores. He was found frozen in the courtyard just a few moons into their marriage.

The third, and most recent, husband to make her a widow was Petyr Baelish, a con man and murderer that married her for her station because she was weak. He was a vile man that called her by her mother’s name as he forced himself upon her. He was responsible for the death of most of her family as well. He had been found with a large gaping hole in his body that no one could fathom how it was achieve as it matched no known weapon.

The Lords Declarant had found the second death of her husband as strange, and accused her of sorcery. The charges that she did not deny nor admit to. She was more then willing to renounce her title as Lady of the Vale and Warden of the East. It was not the title she wanted, nor one she needed.

She had her own title to claim.

“Are you sure you must leave?” Her friend, Myranda, questioned as she dressed herself in the warm layers.

“I cannot stay here any longer” She answered, “I am a danger to those around me. I do not wish for you to be hurt as well”

“Where will you go though?” She questioned. No one in the Vale knew who she was, she did not trust them, nor did she trust herself. She was dangerous. She brought death and destruction wherever she went. “Once you get to the North, there is nothing left. War has left it barren and desolate, and they do not accept women at the Wall” 

She was to travel North to the Wall with the small band of poor men who thought to join the watch if only to have a bit of food and drink in their stomachs, and a warm fire to sleep by. 

“Perhaps I will live as a wilding” She answered.

“Be serious Alayne” Myranda chastised. “I know you feel responsible for the deaths of Petyr and Harry, but it wasn’t your fault. My father will make the lords believe you. You cannot force a person to freeze, my father knows that”

“I could not allow him to do that. I’m ruining his name and putting him at risk. And besides, what if I told you that I was truly the reason they were dead?” 

“Harry was an awful person, no one mourns his death save for his whores” Myranda spat. Harry had tried to seduce her once before, “And Littlefinger, well, they are secretly toasting their good luck. What a disgrace he was to the Vale, and marrying his own daughter against her will, it’s disgusting”

“He wasn’t my father in truth, Myranda” She sighed, “I was a down on my luck orphan girl that he took a liking too. We shared no blood”

“Still, to call you his daughter to convince Lady Arryn to marry her son to you, deceitful and shaming”

“It was all a long thought out plan to gain control of the Vale, Randa. All he ever wanted was a position high above his station” She told her, “But he is dead now, and he has suffered for what he had done,”

“Everyone suffers in the winter,” Myranda told her morosely.

“Six years of winter,” She sighed.

“I cannot wait for spring”

‘We have many years yet” She answered. She could feel the winter in her bones, and she knew it was only halfway through. They had a long stretch in front of them, one that she was no sure they could survive. “I must go now, before they leave without me”

“Take my horse, Alayne. Please, my gift to you”

“Thank you Randa, I shall never forget your kindness,” She told the girl as she hugged her gently, careful not to touch her with her skin.

Once Randa was gone, she finished dressing, securing her thick cloak around her shoulders and swathing her head with a bolt of fur lined fabric to hide her red hair. 

She met the men in the courtyard.

“Lady Baelish” One of them, a former stable hand, nodded to her.

“Please, call me Alayne” She answered. She hated to be called Lady Baelish. She hated bearing his name. 

“We need to leave now, before the storm picks up again,” He told her.

But as she watched the clouds roll over the sky, she knew that a storm was brewing, and she knew it would hit them as they rode. She just hoped that they would all survive.


	3. Chapter 3

“Lord Snow,” Satin, his steward, entered his solar with a grim look upon his face. He put down the old ledger he was reading and marked the page. It was difficult work to put a castle back together again, especially with the kingdom in ruins.

 

“What is it?” He questioned. He was fearful of the answer. He knew it would not be glad tidings based upon the look on Satin's face.

 

“We found a group of men frozen just beyond the King’s Road,” He told him, “The ice storm must have caught them unaware, there was only one survivor”

 

“And the survivor? Did he say where they came from?”

 

“He said they came from the Vale, on their way to the Wall” Satin informed him.

 

“Burn their bodies” He commanded, “And be done with it. Use them as an example to the cocky lads that think they can best the ice” Ice storms were no joke in the North, especially in this season. There had been a few weak ones in the past few moons, but the ice storm that they had had a few days ago had been the worst so far. They had lost two of their own men when the winds blew in. They were so cold they could freeze the air in a mans lung in five seconds flat. The green boys didn't believe it though.

 

Satin hesitated by the door.

 

"Is there something else?" He questioned.

 

“There was a woman with them, Lord Snow,” He admitted.

 

“A woman?” He asked, confused as to why a woman would be her way to the Wall.

 

“She had this clutched between her fingers,” Satin held out a piece of soggy fabric. A handkerchief, he realized as he took the wisp of wet silk from him. He spread it out across his desk to reveal the crumpled sigil of House Stark. “One of the men says she resembles your former sister”

 

“No” He whispered fingering the wet silk, “Show me to her body, now”

 

There was only one female Stark that would ever seek him out on her own. One he hadn’t seen since he was ten and four, and she only nine. She would be around ten and five now, a woman grown. Her dreamt of her sometimes, of her long face and lopsided smile. Her laughter came to mind as they hustled through the drafty corridors.

 

_“I will miss you little sister” He ruffled her tangled hair._

_“I wish you were coming with us” She told him, her grey eyes that matched his and their fathers, looked back at him with sadness._

_“Different roads sometimes lead to the same castle. Who knows? I better go. I’ll spend my first year on the Wall emptying chamber pots if I keep Uncle Ben waiting any longer.”_

_She hugged him tightly, almost impaling him with her new sword._

_“I almost forgot,” he told her. “All the best swords have names.”_

_“Like Ice. Does this have a name? Oh, tell me,” She jumped up and down on the balls of her feet, her eyes lit up, their previous sadness forgotten._

_“Can’t you guess? It’s your favorite thing in the world”_

_“Needle” She laughed._

_Her laughter was one of the things that kept him warm at night. The long ago memory of a happier time when she, Robb, and he would run about the field, trying to catch rabbits, or when they hid from Lady Catlyn, those were his favorite._

“Lord Snow?” Satin had stopped. They were nearing the new dining hall.

 

“Yes?”

 

“We put them in here so that we’d know if they came back” Satin explained, pushing open the thick doors to the hall. Both hearths were blazing with a strong fire but the cold was still there.

 

‘This way” He led him past the far table. There were about fifteen bodies laid out on the ground, soaking wet and pale.

 

“A few men are butchering the horses outside” Satin told him, “There were ten in total”

 

The horses would supply enough meat for them to eat for nearly a full moon if they were careful enough. Food was scarce and the stores were low already, but the horses would help greatly.

 

The men looked up as he arrived, and nodded. They were northern men, men that had sworn fealty to his brother at one point.

 

“She is down here, Lord Snow,” Satin led him to the last row, where a figure swathed in black was lying. Her entire face was covered with a swatch of fabric that the men had covered all of their faces with.

 

He couldn’t see her hair with the fabric, her clothing dwarfed her figure, and her face was masked by fabric. Her hands were the only things he could see. She wore no gloves, which struck him as old. Her long, pale hands were calloused, her nails bit short, and covered in scars, just as someone who practiced with swords would be.

 

Just as hers would have looked.

 

He took a breath and reached out to remove the fabric, slowly.

 

Her face was pale as ice, and her lips were chapped and white, the blood had drained from her face. Her cheekbones stood out prominently in her gaunt face that was clearly malnourished. Her lids were closed, thankfully shielding him from eyes that already haunted him dreams. She was as beautiful in death as she had been in life. 

 

He sobbed at the sight, unable to stop himself as he stared at the lifeless form of his little sister.


	4. Chapter 4

He sobbed at the sight, unable to stop himself as he stared at her lifeless form. Her red hair was like a halo of blood against her pale skin. He was relieved yet saddened. It wasn’t Arya, but Sansa.

“Do you recognize her, Lord Snow?” Satin asked cautiously.

“Sansa Stark” He told him.

“Your sister,” 

“My cousin” He corrected. “True heir of King Robb. She should have been Queen”

“My condolences, Lord Snow” Satin murmured.

“We were not close, I admit,” He replied, “I did not know whether she was even alive or dead”

“The group was headed for the Wall. Mayhap she sought to find you”

“No” He shook his head “I have no idea why she would. We were never close as children”

“Lord Stannis will be disappointed by her death” The former King had been searching for Sansa, along with the rest of his former siblings, for the past year without results. He had restored Winterfell to some semblance of its former glory, and installed Jon as Lord of Winterfell until a true Stark could be found after his brothers had betrayed him.

“Did she have a cloak or gloves when you found her?”

“No, Lord Snow” Satin shook his head, “We found her like that” She was wearing a pair of thick fur breeches and a tunic, but no gloves or a cloak. Even her boots were not suitable for winter travel. She should have known better.

“And the survivor? Where is he?”

“With the maester” Satin replied, “It doesn’t look good for him either”

“Have the men prepare a bonfire for the others, and one for her” He ordered.

“Two, Commander?”

“She is the last of the Starks, the would be Queen of the North. Her ashes will need to be laid to rest in the crypts” The crypts were the only things in Winterfell left untouched. Neither her father, nor mother, nor brother had been laid to rest there as they deserved, but he would make sure she was. “I will return shortly. You will wait until I do to burn her”

“As you wish, Lord Snow” Satin went to find men to help him carry her as he made his way towards the Maester’s tower to see Sam.

The man had returned from the Citadel a full-chained maester a year past to find that most had changed. Gilly, Val, and the two boys, both now 3 and healthy, were living in Winterfell as well. 

“Jon” Sam greeted.

“How is he?”

“Delirious and near death” Sam sighed, “The cold is already in him, I can’t save him”

“I need to speak with him”

“He won’t be very helpful” Sam told him, “Why’s it so important? It was an ice storm that killed them, not wights”

“The woman they found with them was Sansa Stark” Sam drew in a surprised breath.

‘Your sister. I’m so sorry, Jon”

“Cousin” He corrected, “I need to know how she came to be with them,”

“Alright” Sam sighed, “I’ll give him something to wake him up, but it won’t last long and he’s likely to not wake up after”

“Do it” He sighed.

He led him to the bed where the boy was wrapped up in blankets. He was pale and tinged purple. His breaths were shallow. Sam tipped a vial into his mouth, and the boy gasped for breath.

He was even younger then he had imagined, no older then ten. Much too young for the Wall. 

“What’s your name, lad?” He questioned.

“Ty” He mumbled.

“Ty” He took the lads hand in his own. It was weak and cold, “I am Jon. Do you remember the woman you were traveling with? She had red hair”

“Is she dead too?” He questioned.

He nodded. The lad burst out into tears, fat salty drops of water cascading down his cheeks.

“She said she wouldn’t die!” He exclaimed, “She said she wasn’t cold, that she didn’t need it! I swear I didn’t want it, my lord, I swear it” He sobbed.

“Whoa” He put a heavy hand on the boys shoulder to calm him, “Didn’t want what, Ty?”

“Her cloak” He sniffled, “She said I had to take it. But I didn’t want it”

“She gave you her cloak” He looked around the room for said cloak. Sam picked it up from the table. It was soaking wet from unfreezing. 

“And her gloves” Ty hiccuped, “She told me that she was from the north, that the cold didn’t bother her, but it was lies! She was from the Vale. As the wind started to blow in, she wrapped me up in her cloak like it was a fort. She told me to keep my eyes closed and try to sleep,” He whispered. “She sang until she stopped”

“Then?”

“She told me not to come out of the cloak until the wind stopped” Ty told them, “But I didn’t. It was still windy when I looked out. It hurt so much, like I was breathing in ice”

“She tried to save your life,” He told the lad. He nodded solemnly.

“Will you write to Lord Royce about what she did?” He questioned, “About how she saved me, so they know she was good”

“What do you mean, good?”

“They thought she was evil, but she was nice to me. She gave me her rations of food and let me ride in her saddle cause I had no horse”

“Why would they think she was evil?” He questioned, thinking back to his courteous sister. 

“She killed her husbands” Ty whispered.

“How long was she in the Vale?” He asked, wondering how long she had been married for, how long she had been hiding there.

Ty shrugged.

“I don’t know. She was a bastard like me though; we had the same last name before she married. Alayne Stone, pretty isn’t it?”

“Alayne?” He questioned, “Her name was Sansa, Ty”

“No, they called her Alayne or Lady Baelish” Ty replied. His eyes drooped shut, “I’m tired” He told them, his voice slurring.

“Go to sleep, Ty” He sighed, “You’ll be alright when you wake up, lad”

The boy drifted off without another word. His breathing slowed until he breathed no more.

“Damnit” He cursed, pounding his hand on the table next to the bed.

“Jon?” Sam questioned.

“His body needs to be burned with the rest of them” He told Sam, picking the young boy up easily. 

“I won’t watch” Sam told him.

“I wouldn’t ask you to” Jon replied. Sam may have grown a lot in the past few years, but he still had his bouts of cowardice. He would not watch the boy he had tried to save burn with the rest of them.

He carried Ty out to the courtyard where two bonfires were building high. The men were standing close to warm themselves. The bodies had been dragged outside.

“Start burning the others” He told the men as he placed Ty gently onto the pile of dead flesh.

“Yes, my lord” A few of the men replied. He turned to where Satin was and frowned. Her body wasn’t with him.

“Where is she?” He questioned.

Satin pointed and he turned to find Ghost standing protectively in front of her, his teeth barred.

He calmed as Jon approached them, lying in the snow next to her and whimpering as if he were in pain.

“I know, boy,” He murmured, kneeling next to them. Ghost licked her pale cheek, and stood.

‘I am so sorry Sansa” He murmured as he gripped her hand within his own. It bore a long scar from the middle of her palm all the way to her elbow. It was healed fully, so it wasn’t recent. “You did not deserve this,” He bent forward and pressed a kiss to her cold forehead.

He nearly fainted when he felt the breath against his chin. He held his hand over her mouth, and again felt her breath against it.

“She’s breathing!”


	5. Chapter 5

_“She’s breathing!”_

He shouted it again, loudly. Several of the men looked at him with pity.

“Sansa! Sansa, wake up!” He shook her shoulders. Her eyes flew open and he clambered away in shock. Her eyes were not the Tully blue he expected, but a different shade, the shade of the dead. She had eyes that seemed to flicker like a blue flame. They were unnatural and unseeing, similar to an Other. As quick as she had opened them, they were closed again.

“Lord Snow?” Satin questioned, “Are you alright?”

“Fetch Sam” He told him quickly. He picked her up off the ground easily. She didn’t stir. , “Send him to my chambers immediately” He ordered, already halfway out of the courtyard. She weighed nothing in his arms, though he could feel the cold seeping out of her. Her dark, damp hair slapped against his thigh as he jogged through the courtyard, making his way towards his own chambers. 

Sam met him at door to his chambers, a concerned and worried look upon his face.

“Put her on the ground near the hearth” He told him. He laid her gently down on the furs there. She did not stir. Sam felt around her neck for something. He pulled his hand away with a yelp.

‘What?” He questioned.

“Her skin, it burns cold,” He reached out and felt her neck, but it just felt chilled. It didn’t hurt him like it had Sam. He constantly burned hotter then the rest of his men though, so it was no wonder he couldn't feel it. With the dragon blood running through his veins, he barely felt the coldness, even here in Winterfell. He could feel it on Sansa though. It consumed her.

“Her eyes, Sam” He whispered after a moment of deliberation. He trusted Sam with the truth, “They were different”

“She opened her eyes?” Sam sounded surprised.

“They were like blue flames”

“Jon” Sam knew where it was going. “Is she?”

“No, she’s still alive, isn’t she? Her heart still beats”

“We don’t know if they’re still alive either. No one has ever gotten that close” Sam sighed, “Jon, this could be dangerous”

“I won’t kill her” He muttered, “I’ll watch her closely” He added.

“You had better” Sam knew better then to argue when his mind was set, which it was now. He would not kill Sansa, other or not. She was the only one of his blood left it seemed. He hadn't quite grasped it yet. He wasn't alone anymore. He had her, if she would just wake up.

“Looking at her now, I would say she is dead, and yet, she lives” Sam breathed. “You have to warm her up, unless she tries to kill you”

‘How?” He questioned, ignoring the barb.

“She needs to be out of these wet clothes,” Sam told him, blushing slightly.

“And then?”

“Body heat” Sam admitted, “Though she might freeze someone with that ice in her veins”

“No,” He murmured, “I will do it. She’s not my sister anymore but she she is still all that I have left for family. Besides, I am uniquely qualified for this” He gestured to his skin, which was always hotter then usual. “Is that all that can be done?”

“I’m afraid so” Sam murmured, “If she wakes, she should have a warm bath and something warm to eat, though nothing heavy, if she’s even hungry”

“Okay” He nodded.

“If she wakes, Jon, it isn’t guaranteed” Sam told him, “And if she’s changed, then you need to make a decision”

“I know” He nodded. “But I won’t kill her when she hasn’t even attacked us yet”

“I’ll check in on you in the morning, alright?” Sam sighed, knowing that it was true. Unless Sansa tried to harm someone, he would not lay a finger on her in ill will. The very thought made him feel sickly.

“You’re in charge tonight, Sam” He told his friend instead, focusing on the blonde man and the orders that he had to give, “Have Satin make sure the bodies are burnt, and you make sure that the men and women had a good serving of horse stew. Make sure the children get second servings, okay”

Sam nodded and left them without another word. He looked to his former sister, nearly dead upon his floor, and started to undress her. He tried not to look as he removed piece after piece of wet material. And then she was naked. He started to remove his own clothing then. He left his undergarments on to preserve her dignity. He pulled the furs and such from his bed and piled them in front of the fire, though he stayed a safe distance from it. He may not feel the burn of the fire, but Sansa surely would. He gathered her cold, damp body into his arms and tried not to wince at the cold temperature. She was colder then ice, yet still alive. She didn’t try to stab him or strangle him. She just laid limp in his arms, her eyes thankfully shut. Ghost joined their little warming party on the ground by lying in front of her. He pulled the blankets over them and prayed to the old gods that they would let her live and live right.


	6. Chapter 6

She woke up feeling warmer then she had in months. She was so warm it was nearly uncomfortable. She blinked open her eyes to see rays of sun peeking through curtains of dark grey. She was in a bedchamber she remembered vaguely from her youth, though she had no idea why she would be there now.

She sat up slowly, her head was swimming. 

She took in the familiar stone walls of her father’s old bedchambers. She was in his room. The furniture and décor were different, but the stones were the same, save for a few scorch marks here and there. Tears swam behind her eyes as she thought of the place being put to the torch. Nothing hurt so much as remembering her past here. It was one of the few things that brought her pain still.

A whimpering noise drew her attention to the foot of the bed where a large white direwolf was curled up comfortably.

Ghost, she smiled, reaching out to thread her hands in his thick fur. The wolf nuzzled against her hand. She gave him a good scratch before getting out of bed, realizing that she wearing a thick shift she had never seen before. Ghost jumped from the bed as well, and walked to a chair in the corner, where a man was asleep.

He looked so much like their father that she was frightened for a moment until she realized who it had to be. 

Jon, she realized sadly, taking in his tired and rumpled appearance. However she had gotten there, he must have kept watch over her the entire time. The wolf attached itself to her side, nuzzling her hand. She looked around the room for something to put on when she noticed the adjoining door. She creaked it open softly, letting the warm air hit her as she entered her mother’s room. Like her fathers, it was similar but different. She spotted her mothers old chest though, unharmed and dusty, sitting in the corner. She hefted it open to reveal some of her mother’s old gowns. 

She bit back a sob as she pulled out her mothers grey one. It had been her favorite as a child. She stripped out of her shift and pulled on the northern styled gown. It was snug at the chest, but fit her perfectly everywhere else. She laced it with some difficulty.

The direwolf watched from the doorway with his head cocked to the side.

She fixed her tangled hair then, brushing it out with a broken brush until it shone like copper. It smelt like the snow to her, and was slightly damp. She noticed her hand as she brushed it, and frowned.

It had gotten worse. It nearly reached her forearm now. She checked her eyes in the looking glass. They were back to their normal color, thank the gods. 

She pulled the sleeve of her gown down to hide her forearm. She dug through the rest of her mother’s things, finding a pair of delicate old slippers that she pulled on. She would have to find gloves soon, lest she hurt anyone else.

When she was decent, she left her mothers chambers, and entered the familiar hallway of her youth. The grey stone bore scorch marks in places, but other then that, it was unchanged. They had never overly adorned the stone with sconces or tapestries. They had a few simple steel ones every dozen steps, but not an obscene amount. It was as basic and simple as it had been in the past. 

She walked the familiar pathway to the kitchen, where she snuck into the hidden door, and pilfered a few biscuits and cuts of horse meat, presumably the remains of the horses from the Vale. At least some good had to have come from all those deaths. She knew food must be scarce up here, especially with the winter and war raging on outside the stone walls. She tucked it away and made her way back to the family wing. She knew no one she passed, and no one seemed to recognize her. It was a blessing.

She placed half of the food she had taken next to Jon on the table, and took the skin of watered down wine for herself. With Jon occupying the only chair in the room, she sat on the bed and ate the dry biscuits there. The horse bacon, which was delicious, smelt heavenly and seemed to work as a wake up call for Jon, who started to wake as she ate.

She had just finished eating her portions of the food when Jon blinked open his eyes, looking around in confusion. They widened considerably when they landed on her.

“You’re awake” He rasped, his voice still sleepily. He sounded nothing like the child she remembered. He was a man grown now, his voice was deep and strong like steel. It was comforting in a familiar way. It reminded her of her father or Jory even. 

“I am” She nodded simply, smiling faintly at him. She had no idea what his feelings were towards her. Did he hate her for all that she had done to dismiss him as a child? Did he feel anger at her sudden arrival? 

“You’re awake,” He repeated.

“Yes, I am awake” She was confused at his confusion. She expected nothing of the sort.

“You were asleep for a sennight,” He told her. “And you’re awake, Lady Stark, and you’re not dead”

“Sansa, please. And Jon, honestly, we have established that I am indeed awake” She huffed, “How did I end up here? Where are the others? Ty?” She questioned.

“They’re all dead Sansa,”

“How?” She whispered, fearing for a second that it was her fault. All deaths seemed to be her fault.

“They froze in the ice storm,” Jon told her, “We thought you dead. You were about to be thrown into the funeral pyre,”

“Dead” She sighed, “The ice storm, I remember now” She had forgotten for a moment, too worried about what Jon was thinking of her. But then she remembered sweet little Ty and the party from the Vale that resented her presence. They had no idea why she was with them, save for the lies she told. Most were wary of her and stayed their distance. Ty had been different, too young and naive to know the gossip that surrounded her. 

“I am sorry,” Jon told her solemnly. It was genuine, something she hadn't heard in a long while. “Why were you headed for the Wall with them?”

“To find you,” She answered. What other reason could she have had? 

“Me?” He questioned, “Why me?”

“Because you were my brother,” She answered simply. “I treated you horribly as a child, I know, but I was a child, desperate for the approval of her mother. I hope you can forgive me for that, Jon. You and I are the last of the Starks, I do not wish to loose you as well,” She admitted. Jon looked shocked.

“I’m not a Stark, Sansa,” He told her.

“So I heard but technically you are still half a Stark. You have the blood of the North in you, Jon, you have always been a Stark. Just because your surname isn’t Stark, does not make you any less of one. I no longer carry that surname either, thrice married am I, but I am still a Stark” She reasoned. She knew about the Targaryen in him. She had dreamt of it. Not all of her dreams were visions, but she could tell which ones were. Jon was a Targaryen, a dragon prince in his own way.

“You know of my true parentage?" He questioned in surprise, "Not many are privy to such sensitive information,"

"I dreamt of it," She admitted. She felt as though she could trust Jon. She hoped she was right about it.

"You dreamt of it?" He questioned, "When?"

"A few moons ago," She murmured, "Maybe more. I dreamt that you died and that you were thrown into a great funeral pyre, only to emerge unscathed," It had been a frightening dream, but the ending was well enough. He had survived.

"You have the sight," He stated bkuntly, "Like the Reed boy, and Bran,"

"You dream of Bran too, don't you?" She questioned. Sometimes she dreamt of her little brother, stuck beyond the wall in a land of ice that he would never escape. He liked it though. He liked being with the three eyed raven and Meera Reed. He told her that it was too late for them, but that she could still save the others. She hoped his visions were true as well.

"Sometimes," Jon nodded.

"Must be the Stark blood," She told him with a faint smile, "Strange isn't it? Here we sit chatting about magic and dreams and visions as if it were the simplest thing in the world. A few years ago we both would have dismissed such thoughts as one of Nan's crazy old tales," She murmured as she watched the fire dance in the grate. She know knew that most of Nan's stories were true. It was frightening but reassuring in a way. It had helped her deal with it all when the strange things first began to occur.

“I’ve seen stranger things,” He whispered.

"Ah, yes, the fire thing. I suppose that is stranger then visions. Can you still do it?" She questioned. He had emerged from the pyre untouched, but was it lasting? She had heard many tales about Targaryen princes and kings going mad and setting themselves on fire, only to fire a painful death. She did not wish that for Jon.

Without words, he stuck his hand into the flames. She watched the flames lick around his pale skin, but it appeared harmless. It was fascinating in a strange way. She was enthralled by it. She scooted closer to the fire place to see better. The flames were dancing around his fingers, but the flesh remained in tact and burn free. With a soft sigh, she stuck her own pale hand into the fire.

"Sansa!" Jon yelped just as the fire was extinguished as a burst of cold air filled the room. He pulled her hand out with his. Both of their hands were unburnt, though his sleeve was singed off and his pale skin glowed red. With the touch of her cool hands, his skin stopped pulsating with heat. “You’re unburnt”

“As are you” She told him, holding up his hand with her own, “Ice burns colder then fire burns hot,” She explained.

"This is how you survived the ice storm," Jon guessed. There was no malice or fear in his words, just simple understanding. He would not be so understanding when she explained the whole of the matter, but for now she would keep that to herself.

"It is," She nodded.

"I wish to know all about it, Sansa, but not now. I have a feeling that it's going to be a lengthy conversation. Right now though, the North is eagerly awaiting the return of their Queen," His words sent ice to her heart, and her breath came with difficulty. She was no queen, she would never fall victim to that pipe dream again.

“I’m no Queen” She told him coldly. 

“To the few that remain, you are” He told her, “You were your brother’s heir. You inherit Winterfell, the North, and the crown”

“You can have them”

“They are not mine to have”

“I’m not a Stark anymore” She admitted softly, “I was married”

“I heard” He nodded, “The boy you tried to save, Ty, asked that we write to the Vale on your behalf”

“What did he tell you?” 

“Not much. He called you Alayne” He sighed, “We will talk later, Sansa, I promise. But you must prepare yourself to meet those that remain and then, Stannis Baratheon”

“Stannis?” She questioned, fearful. She hated that name brought fear to her heart, hated that she instantly thought back to the burning green fires on the bay, and the scared, scarred Hound breaking into her chambers to steal a kiss. They were memories from her past, memories she had no plan on reliving. She was a different person now, a stronger person. 

“He is on our side now” Jon told her, “He restored Winterfell and he no longer wants the Iron Throne”

“He doesn’t?” She questioned.

“No” He shook his head, sending his curls flying, “He wants Storm’s End, he will bend the knee to the Dragon Queen”

“The what?” She was confused, ‘Another player?”

“Daenerys Targaryen, daughter of the Mad King Aerys” He informed her, “You have missed much in the Vale”

“I’ve been out of the loop my lord husband died” She murmured, “If he was good for one thing, it was information”

“Who was he?” Jon questioned.

“Which one?” She laughed humorlessly, “The one with the information was Lord Baelish. But he was not my first husband”

“You married more then once?”

“Thrice” She gave a short laugh, “Thrice a widow, Jon. Four times if Lord Tyrion is dead. I haven’t even celebrated my twentieth name day”

“He isn’t” He replied, “He is Hand to the Dragon Queen”

“And this Dragon Queen has allowed the North to remain independent?”

“The North is few in numbers these days, Sansa. We have only a small population and the Wall is falling. There are things more dangerous then the wars of petty kings lurking in the Northern lands”

“What do you mean?”

“The stories Old Nan used to tell were no stories, Sansa. The Others, the wights, wargs, giants, they all exist”

“Okay” She nodded.

“You believe me? Just like that?”

“Look at us, Jon. How can we see ourselves and what we can do without believing in all the rest of it?”


End file.
